Benidorm Bruisers

We spent an afternoon in Benidorm, about 20 kms away from where we were staying up in the mountains at Guadalest.

It seeemed an OK sort of place, though rather large. Out of season, it’s mostly inhabited by wrinklies and nouveaux-bourgeois types.

We were enjoying an expensive coke at one of the cafes when a bunch of about eight bruisers plonked themselves down and demanded cider. The waiter didn’t understand what they wanted, even after they said ‘cider’ at him three times in exactly the same way but with increasing volume. “Oh fek, eight lagers then, Pedro” one of them continued, in a Welsh accent.

These lads were built like bricks, and their necks had considerably more circumferance than their heads. One of them had a very peculiar profile. His chin stuck out immenseley, and his nose was positioned about an inch higher than it should have been. His forehead then swept straight back from the bridge of his nose to join the top of his shaven head. The others were not half as good looking. I reckon they must have been rejected from the Welsh rugby team for being too ugly.

Very unfortunately for me, I ended up going to the toilet just after the largest of them had been there. I had to squeeze past him to get to the extremely small, hot and airless cubicle as he stood by the washbasin, and I was too frightened to exit promptly when I closed the door and realised that he’d just taken a dump of epic proportions. I could provide more details, but I won’t.